


Golden Memories in the silver bracelet

by Llamaonfire



Category: The Beatles
Genre: 1950's, 50's, British English, English, F/M, Fluff, Homosexuality, Male Homosexuality, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 16:10:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2627906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llamaonfire/pseuds/Llamaonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each small link is a moment, a golden memory saved in a little silver bracelet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Memories in the silver bracelet

**Author's Note:**

> Illustration:http://maycurymclennon.tumblr.com/post/102816191645/here-it-is-my-darlings-the-mini-mclennon-proyect  
> Tumblr post: http://thewritingberry.tumblr.com/post/102813439865/golden-memories-in-the-silver-bracelet-mclennon

It was a tradition back then, when I was just a little boy, back in Liverpool (God that was a cliché line). When you were born you were giving this silver bracelet with your name in it. That was, in case you got lost in the midst of the war, during a bombing. I’ve had mine since I can remember, it’s always been there, hanging on my arm mindlessly, collecting memories. More and more as the years went by I looked more to it as a memory button. As I rub the cold material between my fingers I can still the difference of temperature and the metallic feeling slowly trigger old, loving memories.  
The leafs were slowly changing, the green slowly gaining a soft orange, with a little yellow and finally ageing to an old brown colour. On this Sunday afternoon the weather was too, changing. Slowly the wind grew colder, turning noses red and making lovers cuddle just a little closer. The leafs blew in the slightly strong wind, flowing from side to side till this one leaf landed on top of a certain auburn coloured Elvis do. I remember my giggles echoing across the empty woods as he crossed his eyes to look at the fallen leaf, before blowing it and sending it on it’s way.  
“Bloody leaf, almost messed with me do.” He groaned, just joking really, looking down at me through his heavy framed, black, Buddy Holly glasses.  
He gazed, I smiled, he smiled wider and I melted.  
I used to hate admitting this, but John had this talent of melting me with his smile. It was just so rare, like a rainbow or a soul mate. You never expected it and when it happened it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. So pure, so not like the “great John Lennon”, but yet so like my John. He would most times gain a little bit of an rosy colour to his cheek, looking somewhere else, often times my hands and specially my bracelet. His long, slender fingers would slide upon the metal chain as his eyes focused oh so attentiously on it, examining it like my life depended on it.  
“James Paul McCartney” My name rolled off his lips with such magic.  
“The one and only” I responded in a show off sort of way with one of my classic winks, making him chuckle and wiggle his stomach under my head.  
“Neh, I’ve seen others”  
“in your dreams!”  
“Dream… Dream… dream… dream, when I want you in my arms… when I want you and all your charms, all I have to do is dream…” John began to sing softly with a slight grin on his lips as his gaze found my eyes as I took over. “When I feel blue, In the night, and I need you to hold me tight…”  
“Hold me tight” John put enfasys with a funny, perverted voice and a little wiggle of the eyebrow.  
“Creep” I joke.  
“Ya love it, you fool.” He pokes my stomach and suddenly the endless jokes begin, going back and forth between me and him, making me sit up in the heat of the battle till we finally grow quiet and suddenly explode again in laughter as I fell back on his lap. Grazing up at him I felt my heart stumble on its beat as he reached down to my cheek, stroking it gently before he curved down to me, his lips meeting mine in a soft, virgin kiss.  
John had this thing to him, he was the great big bad boy Lennon, fucking around and doing every girl of Liverpool, but sometimes, when we were alone, I could swear that he was just an awkward little teenage boy, just learning about the birds and the bees. He was gentle and loving in the most pure of ways.  
Funnily enough my old silver bracelet was always a marker of these moments, even later on in our life. When all had happened already, he still went to the bracelet. I remember his long hair pooling slightly on the beach chair, in the backyard of the house he was staying at in LA, I lied next to him on another chair. As I sunbathed, letting our slightly haunting, hurting silence fill us I let my hand hang off the side off my chair. Drowning in the silence I felt something reach for my arm, pulling it softly closer and softly beginning to twists and pulling at bracelet. I opened one of my eyes inside my ray-ban shades and saw the shy, childish look on John's face as he explored my old piece of jewelry. I let my eyes find a spot on his face and explore it.  
"This is an old thing, ain't it?" John asked with a wondering look.  
"Yeah" I responded.  
A long silence followed as he kept caressing the piece of jewellery along with my arm, at times. "I've missed this." He confessed.  
"My bracelet?"  
"Us." He looked up. His eyes were pleading, much like my heart, wanting the old spark back, wanting to be just John and Paul again, wanting to be able to sit quietly somewhere and relax together without having our big images blow. We wouldn't have an image. Regret is not worth anything, it's not gonna magically erase us from the minds of our fans, and I not sure that I would actually want that.  
Yes, I regret giving up my place in John's arms for our dream, but I would change it. I've had the best times of my life with John, George and Ringo and despite often having to change the pain into laughter to kept myself from going crazy, I'm sure that my fairy tale ending is yet to come. We will meet again someday, on a Sunday afternoon.


End file.
